The Universe of Unknown Chaos
by Pinnacle of Madness
Summary: There is a myth that has existed since before Merlin himself. It speaks of a universe that is very different from our own. While used as a bedtime story by both wizard and muggle, it is not believed to be true. Little do they know...
1. Of Nazis and Orlando Bloom

A/N This is pathetic.

Don't read this unless you have nothing better to do. I just wrote this because _I_ have nothing better to do. This is basically a bunch of scenes from various parts of the trio's life based on things that happened in my life. I just wrote this for the heck of it. Don't even bother sending flames and stuff, I'm perfectly aware that it's pathetic.

Yes, this is based, sadly, on actual events.

Ah well. Here ya go.

Disclaimer: I own the devil snowman and the fish with sunglasses, but I don't own Orlando Bloom, or the picture of him that looks like a Nazi(Ali owns that). Oh, and I also don't own Harry Potter.

* * *

**Of Nazis and Orlando Bloom**The trio were sitting in their third History of Magic class of the year(it's fifth year), and they were aleady slacking off. 

It really wasn't that hard.

"Harry, what are you doing?" asked Hermione.

"Drawing," he replied.

"Drawing _what_, exactly?" she asked.

"A picture of a devil snowman."

"A _what!_"

"A devil snowman. See?" he said, holding up the picture for the other two to see. "It's a snowman, but its eyes are narrowed like it's angry, it's got horns, fangs, a forked tail, and that pitchfork thingy."

"And _why_ are you drawing a _devil snowman_ of all things?"

"'Cause I felt like it."

"Uh-huh. Right."

Hermione gave Ron a look that clearly said, 'snap him out of it, please! before he starts running around the school naked or something!', but Ron was as oblivious as usual, and instead he said,

"Can I draw something too, Harry?"

"Sure!" said Harry, handing Ron a piece of parchment, a quill, and a couple different colours of ink.

"I'm going to draw a fish with sunglasses in an underwater town!"

"C'mon, Hermione, you draw something! You can listen to Binns any old time!"

Hermione looked around the classroom with a desparate expression on her face as though expecting one of the sleeping students to spontaneously wake up and slap some sense into Ron and Harry. When nothing of the sort happened, she threw her hands up in exasperation, then thought to herself, 'Oh well. If you can't beat them, join them,' then took a quill for herself, snatched a bottle of green ink from Ron("Hey! I need that for his shoes!"), and started drawing.

Half an hour later, class was almost done, and they were all finished their drawings.

"Wow, great fish, Ron!"

"Thanks, Harry. Great snowman! What did you draw, Hermione?"

"Yeah, you refused to tell us. What did you draw?"

"Well, I must say, this is the best drawing I've ever done."

"So what did you draw?"

"Well..."

"Yes?"

"...I drew..."

"Yes!"

"...my very own picture of..."

"WHAT DID YOU DRAW, ALREADY!"

"Orlando Bloom!"

Silence.

Utter silence.

Complete and utter silence was what followed and Harry and Ron sat there staring at her drawing for a whole minute.

Two minutes.

Three minutes.

Four minutes.

Then...

"Hermione?" said Ron. "That looks like a Nazi."

The bell rang.

Students of various ages crowded at the door of the History of Magic classroom(something that had not happened in over a hundred years).

After all, nobody had ever seen Harry Potter laugh so hard he wet his pants.

* * *

A/N See? Pathetic, right?

Okay, origionally, I was the one laughing(and, no, I did NOT wet my pants. I did, however, laugh for two minutes straight.), I was the one who drew the pictures of the fish and the devil snowman, Ali was the one who drew the picture of Orlando Bloom, and Lindsay was the one who told her it looked like a Nazi. Actually, it was in art class, so we never got in trouble for drawing during class time since we were supposed to.


	2. Neon Orange

A/N One word: Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own telephones, Lord Voldermort, Snape, Lucius, any of the other Death Eaters, Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, or Hermione Granger. I do, however, own The Dark Fortress of Death, Doom, and Destruction... I dare you to say that five times fast. ;)

* * *

**Neon Orange**

Lord Voldemort had just installed telephones in homes of every single one of his Death Eaters. He believed this a brilliant way to keep the Ministry/Dumbledore from tracking their conversations.

"They'll never think to check muggle communication!" he had gloated to his loyal Death Eaters.

Loyal? Who am I kidding?

"A galleon says something goes wrong within a week," Snape immidiately said to Avery.

This had been six days ago, and Voldemort was currently spending some time thinking up what to say to Snape tomorrow when it would be a week.

But, of course, that just jinxes it, doesn't it?

That was when the telephone rang. Thinking it was Snape calling a day early to apologize(yeah, right) or maybe Lucius telling him that his dry cleaning was done, he answered it.

"Hello, Dark Fortress of Doom, Death, and Destruction, The Dark Lord Voldemort speaking. Who's calling, please?" he spoke into the reciever.

"Wow. Now that's a mouthful," commented the person on the other end.

Voldemort narrowed his eyes. Even the ever-annoying static of the phone could not disguise the voice of his mortal enemy.

"Potter!" he bellowed into the reciever. "Why did you call me? Or, more importantly, how in the nine hells did you get my number!"

He could practically hear the boy smirking.

"Like I'm going to tell _you_," replied the annoying little brat. "Now, to buisness: what's your favorite color?"

"What?" asked Voldemort, shocked at the seemingly random question. _No one_ had ever asked him his favorite color, let alone _Potter_.

"What's your favorite color?" repeated The Boy-Who-Just-Won't-Drop-Dead-Like-He-Was-Supposed-To-Years-Ago. "Hermione thinks it's red and I say it's black. Ron's got _his_ money set on silver and/or green."

"It's neon orange," said The Man-Who-Has-Yet-To-Kill-Harry-Potter-And-Probably-Never-Will. "Anything else?"

"Nope. I just wanted to annoy you," replied Harry I-Have-Too-Many-Dorky-Nicknames. "Tootles!"

He hung up.

"Grr..." growled Voldemort. "Avada Kedavra!"

The phone exploded. This just pissed Voldemort off even more.

"Damn you, Snape!" he shouted at the ceiling. "Why do you always have to be right!"

"Shut up!" shouted Wormtail from a couple rooms down. "Some of us are trying to sleep!"

Voldemort just flung another curse at the remains of the telephone.

* * *

A/N Well? Tell me what you think!

**-Insane Slytherin**


	3. The Most Overexaggerated Severitus Ever

**Title: ** The Most Overexaggerated Severitus Ever

**Author:** Insane Slytherin

**Rating:** PG-13 or T

**Summary:** An overexaggerated Severitus. Kind of parody, I guess.

**Author Notes:** I was bored. Virtual coffee to whomever can find the Simpsons reference.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing but an over-active imagination and this crappy computer.

* * *

Harry was in Snape's office, supposedly for a detention.

"I hate you, Potter!"

"I hate you, too!"

"I bet I hate you more than you hate me!"

"Not possible!"

Suddenly, Snape looked confused.

"Potter, why do you look exactly like me?"

Harry burst out crying.

"I don't know! I changed while being tortured by the evil Dursleys!"

A letter suddenly appeared in a blinding, unsubtle flash of light. Above the letter, bright light formed into words: **THANK YOU FOR USING TIME-DELAY MAIL, COME AGAIN SOON.**

Snape and Harry read the letter.

"OMG, I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU'RE MY FATHER! THAT'S DISGUSTING!"

"I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU'R MY SON!"

Dumbledore came into the room.

"Hi, everybody!"

"Hi, Professor Dumbledore!" they both answered.

"I see you found the letter. You now know the truth."

"I'm disgusted."

"So am I."

"That's easily solved!"

Dumbledore walked over to them and force-fed them both lemon drops.

They blinked.

"I love you... son!"

"I love you too, dad!"

"Gimme a hug!"

--insert big, mushy scene here--

Dumbledore grinned.

"Excellent! This calls for more lemon drops!"


	4. Luke, I Am Your Owl

**Title:** Luke, I Am Your Owl

**Author:** Insane Slytherin

**Rating:** PG or K+

**Summary:** Who becomes the Headmaster/Headmistress after Dumbledore dies?

**Author Notes:** Still bored.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing but an over-active imagination and this crappy computer.

* * *

Harry had been called to McGonagall's office. When he got there, he found McGonagall stroking his own.

"Hello, Harry," said Professor McGonagall.

"Hello, Professor."

"Now, I'm sure you're wondering who the new Headmaster/Headmistress of Hogwarts is."

"Not really."

"Too bad. I'm telling you, anyway. It's..."

--dramatic pause--

"...Hedwig."

Harry shrugged.

"Whatever. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going back to my bed to wallow in my misery, self-pity, and woe."

"Okay. Don't be late for dinner."

Hedwig looked up and stared at Harry.

"Luke, I am your owl," she said.

"My name's not Luke. It's Harry."

Hedwig blinked.

"Oops."


End file.
